Finalword
by Kayley Laskitt
Summary: There are some things that you can just never forget, no matter how hard you try. And despite all he did to her, despite how much she should hate him, Kasumi just can’t forget Hiroshi. Indigoshippy.
1. Manywords

Authors Notes: Okay, heres the thing

Authors Notes: Okay, heres the thing. This was supposed to be a present for Dana-chans birthday on August 14th, but I finished it on June 22nd, so I decided to give it to her early as a belated 100-fic present and give her the leagueshippy that I was supposed to give her for her 100-fic present to her for her birthday.

breathes

The inspiration for this fic can be credited to both Not The Same by Bodyjar, and a conversation I had with my friend Sarah at her boyfriends house, about first loves and her ex who I hated.

Title comes courtesy of the song of the same name by Machine Gun Fellatio.

Oh yeah ... this egoshippy (Kasumi x Shigeru) and indigoshippy (Kasumi x Hiroshi). Doesnt make sense? Read on.

Disclaimer: Pfft, because people read these. I do not own these characters, or settings or anything else. Blah blah blah. 

**Part 1: Manywords**

_Perfect: adj. To be in a state of perfection_

It was the primary adjective used to describe the relationship between Kasumi Yawa and Shigeru Ookido. They were a tabloid journalists dream - she, the tempestuous water trainer with a collection of Pokemon that was in inverse proportion to the size of her waist, and he, her solid, successful, fearless protector. 

She was delicately beautiful, he was ruggedly handsome. They both stemmed from old-money families in their respective hometowns, and the size of their bank accounts combined with the magnitude of their talent to make them prominent figures on local A-Lists. 

The only thing that outshone the pair was the emerald-cut diamond ring that would soon be adorning Kasumi's graceful ring-finger. They had the same friends, the same goals, the same interests. 

Kasumi's father adored Shigeru, and Shigeru's mother adored Kasumi. Shigeru's older sister, Nanami had proclaimed that Kasumi was the baby sister she'd never had, and Kasumi's ditzy, glitzy sisters were all in agreement that Shigeru was one hell of a guy.

Perfect. 

Kasumi had stability, she had popularity, she had a boyfriend that other girls would kill for. In a few years, they would have an extravagant wedding. Kasumi would wear a specially-designed couture bridal gown that would cost more than most of her friends cars. They would live happily ever after in a beautiful house bought by doting, wealthy parents. 

Perfect. 

Perfect as a single dewdrop, solid as a rock. Kasumi and Shigeru, Nanami and Satoshi, Takeshi, Sakura, Ayame, Botan ... all of them thought that this was a relationship that would never be tested. 

On August 14th, they were proven wrong.

As far as SMS messages went, this one had been fairly innocuous. Five letters, all in capitals - he hadn't even bothered to change from upper to lowercase - and one question mark, all of which formed a fairly generic line of questioning. Hardly worth the money it had cost to send. It was not, however, what it said that was important, but the source. 

It was this simple fact that Kasumi was trying her hardest to convey to Takeshi, with little luck. Takeshi, who was tiring of being Kasumi's loyal and faithful sounding board, sighed. 

"Kasumi, you're overreacting." 

Too offended to even sputter indignantly, Kasumi instead thrust her impossibly tiny Nokia at Takeshi. Takeshi read the line of text on the screen for third time, and remained as unmoved as he had been the first time. 

HOW R U? 

"That's disgraceful," he said dryly. "I wouldn't stand for that if I were you." 

Kasumi flung herself dramatically - for she'd always had a flair for the dramatic - into the wooden railback chair opposite Takeshi. 

"Dammit, Takeshi," she said irritably, dropping her airs and graces for one rare moment. "Stop being so damn pedantic and realise that its who its from, not what it says that is the issue here." 

"Who cares?" Takeshi asked, not for the first time. 

The source Kasumi was referring to, whose name she was carefully avoiding saying aloud, was her ex-boyfriend, Hiroshi. 

"How could you not care?" Kasumi demanded. "My ex-boyfriend, who I haven't spoken to in two years sends me an SMS out of the clear blue sky, and you're acting as if this is an everyday occurrence!" 

Takeshi sighed again. 

"What do you want me to do about it?" 

"I want you to tell my why he wants to know how I am!" 

"In the event that I develop psychic abilities, I'll let you know."

Kasumi scowled across the table. 

"Honestly, Takeshi, I'd have thought that you, of all people would –" 

Takeshi interrupted before the guilt trip hit maximum velocity. 

"God, Kasumi, you're making a big deal out of nothing." He snorted derisively, softly. "He was probably cooked out his mind anyway." 

Kasumi reeled back as though shed been slapped. 

"He's not like that anymore, Takeshi, and you know it." She lowered her eyes. "I don't know why you all have to keep bringing that up." 

"And I don't know why you keep defending him," Takeshi countered. 

Kasumi floundered for a response, which was in vain given the fact that she herself wasn't sure why she defended Hiroshi. In her silence, Takeshi's eyes lit with realisation, but the light in his eyes was not one of happiness, but one of weary resignedness and understanding. There might have been disappointment hidden in there. Kasumi didn't care to look for it. 

"I see," Takeshi said softly. 

Kasumi shifted uncomfortably under his lucid gaze. 

"You see what?" 

"A smart, beautiful water trainer who's still carrying a torch for her jerk of an ex-boyfriend."

Takeshi's words stung like a bee, and she stood abruptly, delicate hands shaking with unidentifiable emotion. 

"I can't believe you just said that," she said tremulously. 

Takeshi, however, was not about to backtrack or apologise. Instead, he gazed up at his friend with what was unmistakably wistfulness. 

"You have a wonderful thing with Shigeru, Kasumi. He offers you so much. Please don't ever forget that."

Hiroshi. It had been a long time since Kasumi had allowed herself to remember. Mostly because all of her friends had chosen to forget or ignore it. Takeshi liked to avoid the topic all together. Satoshi liked to skirt it with delicate wording and subject changes. Shigeru ... Shigeru opted for solid, unbreakable denial. 

They'd had a relationship, though the word hardly did it justice. It was on-and-off, hot and cold, it was unconventional, but at the same time, it had been heart-stoppingly intense. 

It had lasted for little less than a year. 

Hiroshi had been in the midst of his delayed teenage-rebellion stage at the time, fuelled by his parents' unexpected divorce. He had been dark and tragic, rebellious and sexy and Kasumi, who, despite all her travels was completely sheltered, had been mesmerised. 

He'd seemed like a rock star at the time, Kasumi remembered ruefully as a VW Beetle cut in front of her on the Old Hanada Road. He'd had a certain disregard for rules, a certain 'so what?' attitude that had been appealing to Kasumi, who had lived under her father's misguided strictness for so long. She'd been completely pulled into it all. 

Unlike her friends, Kasumi did not see her relationship with Hiroshi as a mistake. It had been exciting, a little dangerous, and regardless of the grief it caused her, it had been worth it. He'd treated her badly, she knew that now. He'd been too caught up in his own grief about his parents to really care about her, and consequently he was one of those guys who never called when he said he would, never went where he said he would go, never did what he said he'd do. But despite all that, she'd be at his side every time he called for her. She dropped everything for him more than once. She'd neglected her friends, her family, herself. Still, she didn't regret it. It hadn't been wasted time. She'd learnt a lot from him. 

He was her first.

Hiroshi hadn't been good with words, hadn't been good at expressing that he cared. He was gruff, silent, oftentimes moody. But when he made love to her, he conveyed all the tenderness, all the love that he never really managed to put in words. He had a way of looking at her, touching her that was on an ethereal level. He treated her like a goddess. He made her feel beautiful. 

It was with a sickening twist of her stomach that Kasumi realised she missed that tenderness, that beauty, that love. She missed him. 

_You have a wonderful thing with Shigeru, Kasumi. He offers you so much. Please don't ever forget that._

Takeshi was right. He always was. She knew that. 

But - and all cheesy Hallmark slogans aside - her heart didn't.

There was something to be said for girl-to-girl Deep & Meaningfuls. Better than anything any of her father's therapist friends could ever offer her. The problem was, Kasumi didn't really have many girlfriends. She had her sisters, who were all lovely and sweet, but had the collective depth of a cookie sheet. There was Nanami, but she couldn't really talk to Shigeru's sister about this. There was Hanako, her substitute mother, who dispensed good advice as long as sex wasn't involved. 

Kasumi was desperate. Nothing else would explain her decision to drive the three-and-a-half hours to visit Imite. Imite was wonderful - pretty and fun and incredibly insightful. Best of all, she was the only one who hadn't crucified her for her relationship with Hiroshi. 

Kasumi cringed at the memory of said 'crucifixion' - the intervention that Satoshi had organised. She'd come home from Hiroshi's, to find her sisters, her father, Takeshi, Satoshi, Hanako in the living room, all looking rather grim. 

"We're concerned," Takeshi had said. 

"You've neglected everything," Sakura had said.

"No matter what I do, you rebel against me," her father had said, heartbreaking bewilderment in his eyes. "You fight with your sisters, you sneak out at night, you lie to me ... Kasumi, can't you see what you've let him do to you?" 

An intervention, Satoshi had called it. More like an ambush, Kasumi had accused angrily. Who were they to tell her to run her life, her relationships? 

The clincher had been Satoshi, sweet, unassuming Satoshi who was ropeable with anger at what Hiroshi had done to her. 

"It isn't a relationship, Kasumi," he had said quietly. "Relationships involve respect, and Hiroshi doesn't respect you. He's using you – can't you see that?" 

It was Satoshi's uncharacteristic quiet, and his willingness to speak against someone who had once been his best friend that convinced her. No matter how tight a hold Hiroshi had on her heart, no matter how giddy he made her, it had to end. He was no good for her. 

She'd told him they couldn't see each other anymore the next day. For a moment, she saw true, raw emotion in his eyes. It was quickly replaced with annoyance, followed by an air of 'who cares?'. 

They hadn't spoken since then. 

She'd cried for a few days after, always in secret. She didn't want her friends to see. She didn't want them to try and convince her she was better off without him. And then, miraculously, Imite had shown up at her front door one morning with a paper bag of comfortingly fattening chocolate croissants, and a hug. 

"I heard you ended it with Hiroshi," she'd said, head angled sympathetically. "Are you okay?" 

That was it - no judging, no disappointment, no you-should-have-known-better frown. Just pure sympathy and unparalleled friendship. Kasumi had cried on Imite's shoulder for three-quarters of an hour. 

That, Kasumi acknowledged, was the problem with having mostly guys for friends. They just didn't understand girl things.

"Kasumi, where are you?" 

If it hadn't been for the way he drew out the word 'are', Kasumi might have been annoyed. But that slight intonation let her know that Shigeru was worried about her, which made her smile and frown at the same time. 

"I'll be home by dinnertime," she responded as she turned into Imite's picture-perfect, leafy street. She was evading the question, and he'd know it. 

"That's nice," Shigeru said wryly. "Where are you?" 

"I'm, uh, visiting Imite," she admitted. No point in lying. They had the same friends, news travelled fast. He'd find out the truth eventually. 

There was a brief silence. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Oh, sure," Kasumi assured him brightly, lodging her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she parked out the front of Imite's house. "It's just been awhile since we caught up, you know?" She paused, then decided to play her trump card. "It's a girl thing." 

"Girl thing," he echoed, amused. "Enough said. You probably won't get in till late tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" 

"'Kay. Love you." 

"Love you, too." 

It wasn't a lie. Kasumi did love Shigeru, she knew that. 

She hung up, tucked her phone in her shoulder bag, slid out of her Lexus. The minute she stepped onto the path that led to the door of Imite's funkier-than-thou weatherboard house, Imite stepped out of said house. Imite's face lit up, and she rushed down the path to engulf Kasumi in a hug that was equal parts 'I missed you' and 'It's okay'. 

Kasumi smiled slightly - Imite knew her too well. 

Imite pulled back, studied her friends face. 

"Ouch," she said with a wince. "Something big's bothering you, huh?" 

Yes, Imite knew her too well - almost a little too well.

"Uh-huh," Kasumi agreed in a small voice, looking down at the mosaic-tile path underfoot. She looked up, forced a wry smile. 

"How'd you know?" 

Imite rolled her eyes, then linked arms with Kasumi. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Tell me all about it."

It must have looked odd. 

Kasumi Yawa, the pretty, well-groomed, nineteen-year-old daughter of _the_ Tajiri Yawa, sitting in the middle of a lush green lawn, legs crossed Indian-style. Kasumi could care less how odd it looked. All she knew that right now, sitting on the front lawn making daisy chains with Imite was beyond therapeutic. 

Imite joined the two ends of her daisy chain together, then draped the wreath on Kasumi's head like a delicate tiara, looking at her expectantly. Kasumi slit the stem of her daisy with her thumbnail and eyed Imite anxiously. 

"So?" 

Imite picked Kasumis cell phone up and studied the screen, where Hiroshis message still lay. 

"What tangled webs we weave when we're all on twelve-month cell phone contracts with 45 of free calls a month," Imite said with such convincing sorrow that Kasumi laughed out loud. Imite smiled at her friend's laughter. 

"Did you write back?" Imite asked without warning, causing Kasumi to blink, taken aback. 

"No," Kasumi responded, threading a daisy through the hole. "I didn't know what to say." 

"Fair enough," Imite agreed, draping a daisy-tiara on top of her glossy teal hair. "So, lets get rid of pretences and acknowledge that this rather pathetic SMS has got you questioning your feelings for Hiroshi." 

Kasumi frowned thoughtfully - Imite had a knack for dumbing things down to their most basic level. It made everything seem less scary. 

"Right," Kasumi admitted reluctantly, shifting her position on the grass slightly - it was leaving little grass imprints on the backs of her thighs. "I mean, I'm not saying I'm _in love_ with him or anything but –" 

Imite rolled her wide eyes and deftly linked two lengths of daisy chain together, looping it around her narrow hips like a belt. 

"You don't need to explain yourself. You had like zero closure. Of course you're unsure how you feel." 

"Closure," Kasumi echoed thoughtfully. 

"Closure," Imite confirmed with a nod, causing her daisy-tiara to slip forward slightly. "Look, I know everyone would murder me for saying this, but if you ask me, you need to see Hiroshi again."

Kasumi inhaled sharply. She felt like she had when she was seven and Sakura had pushed her off the monkey bars and knocked the wind out of her. It must have shown on her face, because Imite softened her eyes. 

"I can't," Kasumi said desperately. "Shigeru hates Hiroshi. I can't just go running off to visit him. Shigeru and I are like, engaged to be engaged. This would shatter him." 

"But isn't that better than searching for closure later?" Imite pointed out gently, but firmly. "How would Shigeru feel then, his wife, the mother of his children, running off to her ex-boyfriend to confront her feelings?" 

Kasumi lowered her eyes, threading two daisies together with shaking hands. She could feel Imite's eyes, both sympathetic and probing, watching her intently. 

"Do it now, Kasumi," Imite advised, voice soft. "There's less at stake."


	2. Silentwords

Authors Notes: Okay, heres the thing

Authors Notes: Okay, heres the thing. This was supposed to be a present for Dana-chan's birthday on August 14th, but I finished it on June 22nd, so I decided to give it to her early as a belated 100-fic present and give her the leagueshippy that I was supposed to give her for her 100-fic present to her for her birthday.

breathes

The inspiration for this fic can be credited to both Not The Same by Bodyjar, and a conversation I had with my friend Sarah at her boyfriends house, about first loves and her ex who I hated.

Title comes courtesy of the song of the same name by Machine Gun Fellatio.

Oh yeah ... this egoshippy (Kasumi x Shigeru) and indigoshippy (Kasumi x Hiroshi). Doesn't make sense? Read on.

Disclaimer: Pfft, because people read these. I do not own these characters, or settings or anything else. Blah blah blah. 

Part 2: Silentwords 

Hiroshi didn't like what he'd become. 

On its own, that wasn't particularly significant. A lot of people didn't like what they'd become. But Hiroshi had taken it that one step further. 

He loathed himself. 

Once upon a time, he'd been sweet as cotton candy and about as threatening. He had great friends, and a promising career, and the kind of youthful, boyish good looks that would have enabled him to play a soap-opera teenager forever if he'd ever been into acting. 

Now he was more ageing rock star than polished soap star. He was hardened, jaded, and too full of regrets to have a babyface anymore. 

Almost funny how he could pinpoint the exact moment his life had done a neat, gut-wrenching 180. One simple sentence, nine little words. 

_Hiroshi, your mother and I are getting a divorce._

He still remembered the sickening understanding, and the subsequent way he'd been violently ill soon after. Who broke that kind of news over dinner? 

It, Hiroshi remembered darkly, had all gone downhill from there. His parents had become so caught up in playing my lawyers better than yours and arguing over who got to keep the microwave that they stopped paying much attention to Hiroshi. Hiroshi, who had been like an only child his whole life, given that his only sibling, Kensuke, was eleven years older than him, hadn't taken to that at all. As sad and as lame as it was, that's what had started it all. A childish desire to get some attention. 

He'd stayed out late. They hadn't noticed. He stayed out later. Nothing. It kept going, he kept pushing the line to see how far he could go. He'd go missing for days. He'd come home toasted as all hell. He'd bring girls home, he'd borrow the car and return it with the bumper missing, and they were still too caught up in their petty bickering over the lounge suite to notice. 

He'd moved out of his mother's house as soon as he turned eighteen, and now he lived in a hole-in-the-wall Viridian apartment with an accounting student named Taura. Taura was the classic first-year uni student, and spent more time at clubs than at school, but even she thought Hiroshi's lifestyle was excessive. 

It had to say something. 

He knew that, at nineteen, his wannabe rock-star lifestyle was getting old. He knew it. Taura knew it. His next-door neighbours knew it. He just didn't know how to get out of it. After all, for the past three years, he'd had only one positive thing in his life. 

And he'd been stupid enough to let her get away.

Kasumi Yawa had been a gutsy, in-your-face pre-pubescent brat when he'd first met her. He'd been too young to really be into girls yet, and even if he had been, he probably wouldn't have noticed her. 

Years passed. 

Kasumi Yawa at sixteen was a far cry from the Kasumi Yawa he'd first met in an elevator at his first big comp. She was stunning, smart, talented and utterly, openly smitten with him. 

The way he'd treated Kasumi was 99 of the reason why he loathed himself so deeply. Naivety was part-and-parcel with being sixteen, unless you were subjected to the emotional trauma of spontaneous divorce like Hiroshi. Kasumi had been full of wide-eyed trust for him, and he'd abused that. 

No wonder Satoshi hated him. 

That was one of the worst parts about the whole Kasumi saga, though certainly not the worst - that dubious honour belonged to being responsible for shattering Kasumi's heart. But losing Satoshi's friendship came a close second. Satoshi was accepting and overwhelmingly nice, but Hiroshi had found out the hard way that he could be downright vicious when his friends were being crossed. 

"Maybe you think that because we were friends, I can overlook this," Satoshi had said coldly. "But that's where you're wrong. Because you're obviously not the person I thought you were. I would never be friends with anyone who could treat someone as wonderful as Kasumi as you have." 

The words had been like knives ... but they hadn't been anywhere near as painful as his last words with Kasumi. She'd showed up at his door unexpectedly, nervously toying with the ring on her index finger. 

"We can't see each other any more," she'd said. No 'hello', no, 'how are you?'. It took him precious minutes to register what she'd said. 

"What?" 

She'd taken a deep breath. 

"I know you're not into labelling what we have, but whatever it is, it's over." 

For a brief moment, he'd let his shock, his displeasure, his hurt at this news show in his eyes. Kasumi noticed - it was evident in the way she'd lowered her eyes. He'd quickly changed his demeanour to one of impassive cool. 

"Whatever." He'd paused. "Is that all? Because I have things to do." 

She'd stared helplessly at him for a few seconds, as if hoping he'd magically change into the kind of guy she deserved. Then she spun around and walked away. 

He hadn't spoken to her since. 

He'd stayed in Masara for a month or two, feeling about as welcome as the Ebola virus. Then, without warning he'd upped and left for Viridian. He'd gotten a job, an apartment, even a roommate. A new life, a new beginning. That had been the entire motivation behind his moving. Take two on life. Action. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget Kasumi. 

Taura, who considered herself the authority on relationships (she'd certainly had plenty), had an explanation as to why. 

"You still love her," Taura had said bluntly one night. "And until you deal with that, of course you wont be able to forget her." 

So he'd sent her an SMS, a stupid, lame SMS asking her how she was. Thank God he'd been sober - otherwise he probably would have tried to fit his life story into 120 characters. 

She didn't write back. And that alone told him everything he needed to know. He read the papers. He knew that Kasumi was dating Shigeru, knew that they were pretty much joined at the hip. When he thought about it, sending Kasumi an SMS was sad at best, embarrassing at worst. 

After all, what kind of girl would want him when they could have Shigeru Ookido?

Takeshi was amongst the top five on Hiroshi's list of people he least expected to see that day, and in the top three on Hiroshi's list of people he least wanted to see ever again. 

Takeshi had come down on him hard after the whole Kasumi saga - even harder than Satoshi. Possibly because they'd never really been friends, so there was no skerricks of post-Hiroshi-abuse guilt, no matter how faint. Or maybe it was because, after being Kasumi's surrogate brother for so many years, he was insanely protective. Whatever the reason, Takeshi hated Hiroshi so much that the word 'hate' was barely adequate. 

So when Hiroshi saw him walking through the door during his shift at Propaganda Records, his first instinct was to run out the back door and not come back. Had he not been the only person working - his co-worker, Kari, was on her break - he would have done it. 

Hiroshi watched as Takeshi browsed through the R&B section. He was dressed casually, but Hiroshi knew that his pants were probably equivalent to a weeks rent. Takeshi could afford it - he was the most popular breeder around. 

Hiroshi's only consolation was that at least he had a semi-cool job - working in a funky, independent record store was somehow socially superior to serving up Big Macs and fries. But Hiroshi doubted that Takeshi, who had actually made _Pokemon Insiders_ list of the 50 Most Influential People Under 25, would see the distinction. 

_Head down_, Hiroshi counselled himself. _Keep busy, don't draw attention to yourself, pray that he's looking and not buying_. 

Long, silent minutes passed. Hiroshi ventured to lift his head. He nearly had a heart attack. Takeshi was closing in, CD in hand. There was no escape. Hiroshi silently cursed Kari for taking a break. Takeshi glanced at Hiroshi, then did a double-take. His eyes widened with recognition, which he quickly masked. 

"Takeshi," Hiroshi said evenly, applauding himself for his outward cool. 

Takeshi nodded curtly and slid the CD across the counter. Silently, Hiroshi rang up the purchase, accepted Takeshi's cash (exact change, of course) and handed the small plastic bag to Takeshi. He took it, turned, walked away. Hiroshi waited for him to step outside - he could breathe freely then. 

About halfway across the store, Takeshi turned around abruptly, and stalked back to the counter. 

"What the hell did you think you were going to accomplish by sending Kasumi that SMS?" he demanded sharply. 

Hiroshi's eyes widened with surprise. 

"Excuse me?" 

Takeshi eyed him derisively. 

"You know, that SMS you sent her? Maybe you don't remember, you were probably toasted as all –" 

"I remember," Hiroshi interrupted, voice laden with annoyance. "What I don't get is why you should care. What, am I not allowed to ask her how she is?" 

"No," Takeshi responded flatly. "You gave up that right when you treated her like she existed for your own personal amusement."

The words rang irritatingly true. Hiroshi settled for staring insolently at Takeshi, hoping to piss him off. It'd be nice to see cool, collected Takeshi lose it in the middle of a record store. Takeshi, however, merely stabbed a finger at Hiroshi. 

"You stay the hell away from her," he instructed acidly. "The last thing she needs is _you_ back in her life." 

The way he'd said 'you', like Hiroshi was more parasite than human, stuck with him long after Takeshi left the store.

As much as Hiroshi disliked Takeshi, he had to admit that his little self-righteous spiel on how Hiroshi was the last thing Kasumi needed in her life had hit something that had been itching to be hit. Takeshi was absolutely, irritatingly right - Hiroshi knew that now. And knowing that, Hiroshi felt he was able to finally move on. He felt lighter than he had in years, but it wasn't a giddy, helium-balloon buoyancy, but rather a dried-up, dandelion-spore weariness. 

The way Takeshi had said 'you' still rang in his ears. 

"What's wrong?" asked short, cutesy Taura as she flicked between MTV and Cartoon Network. 

"Nothing," Hiroshi mumbled, snatching the remote from Taura. Watching some blond pretty-boy dancing around singing 'I'm moving on! I'm feeling strong!' was not what he needed right now. 

"Liar, liar pants on fire," Taura chanted. 

Hiroshi mumbled something indiscernible under his breath. 

"Is this about Kasumi?" Taura asked knowingly. 

Hiroshi glowered at her. 

"This is not about Kasumi. Out of all of the things that might possibly be bothering me - not that anything is - Kasumi would be the very last!" 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

"Oh, come on, Hiroshi," Taura said, rolling her large eyes at him. "Why don't you just admit you still have a thing for the girl?" 

"My feelings are of little consequence," he said stiffly. 

Taura snorted softly. 

"It's true!" he insisted, feeling a need to make Taura understand. "Look, maybe I do miss her, but that's not important. I treated her like she was completely dispensable. She's happy now, okay? Telling her how I feel would only mess her up. She deserves better than that." 

Hiroshi shifted uncomfortably when he realised Taura was staring at him like shed just seen him for the first time. 

"What?" 

"Unbelievable," Taura said quietly. "You're willing to live with this, just to keep her happy. Do you have any idea how uncharacteristically mature that is?" 

Hiroshi flushed. 

"God, you must love her so much." 

"I really don't want to talk about it, Taur," Hiroshi said with a sigh. "I'm ready to move on, okay? Lets just forget it." 

Taura fell silent, but kept throwing him round-eyed looks of wonder. Hiroshi groaned inwardly. The doorbell rang and Hiroshi stood up, grateful for the distraction from Taura's awe and MTVs collection of bad pop. 

He pulled the door open, noted that the hinges needed oiling, then nearly slammed the door shut out of shock. 

"Kasumi?"


	3. Finalwords

Authors Notes: Okay, here's the thing

Authors Notes: Okay, here's the thing. This was supposed to be a present for Dana-chan's birthday on August 14th, but I finished it on June 22nd, so I decided to give it to her early as a belated 100-fic present and give her the leagueshippy that I was supposed to give her for her 100-fic present to her for her birthday.

breathes

The inspiration for this fic can be credited to both Not The Same by Bodyjar, and a conversation I had with my friend Sarah at her boyfriends house, about first loves and her ex who I hated.

Title comes courtesy of the song of the same name by Machine Gun Fellatio.

Oh yeah ... this egoshippy (Kasumi x Shigeru) and indigoshippy (Kasumi x Hiroshi). Doesn't make sense? Read on. 

Disclaimer: Pfft, because people read these. I do not own these characters, or settings or anything else. 

**Part 3: Finalwords**

Even though he'd seen her picture in various newspapers and magazines dozens of time since they'd broken up, Hiroshi still barely recognised her. She was taller. Thinner. Her hair was streaked with blonde, and she was impeccably dressed in a charcoal skirt, boots and a rollneck sweater. She looked older, more intimidating. 

"Hi," she said. Even her voice sounded older, though that might have been because it was strained. Tense. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level. 

She lifted an eyebrow.

"I wanted to talk to you." A pause. "Can I come in?" 

He stepped aside to let her inside, then closed the door. 

"Taura, come here for a minute," he called. 

Taura appeared, eyes questioning.

"I want you to meet someone," he explained, lightly touching her shoulder. "Taura, this is Kasumi. Kasumi, this is my roommate Taura." 

Tauras lips curved into a knowing smile. 

"Nice to meet you," she said politely, before turning towards Hiroshi. "I told Jinara that I'd meet her for coffee, so I'll see you later, okay?" 

Hiroshi smiled slightly. It was a lie, and a completely transparent one at that. Jinara was away on vacation with her boyfriend for the weekend. Taura slipped through the door, threw Hiroshi a less-than-subtle wink. The door clicked shut and Hiroshi gestured for Kasumi to sit at the kitchen table. 

"I got your message," she said awkwardly as he lowered himself into the seat opposite her. 

"Oh," he said after a brief silence. "I wondered if you did." 

"What did you think you were doing, sending me an SMS like that!" she exploded without warning, though Hiroshi sensed that the anger in her voice was forced. "I was doing just fine, you know that? I've got a wonderful boyfriend and perfect friends, and then you had to throw everything off balance with your –" 

"I'm sorry," Hiroshi interrupted. 

Kasumi fell silent. 

"You're what?" 

"I'm sorry," he repeated flatly. "I'm sorry for how I treated you when we were together, I'm sorry for sending you that SMS, I'm just ... sorry." 

Kasumi pressed her lips together, looking like she was almost, almost going to cry. 

"You shouldn't have said that." 

"Why?" 

She exhaled slowly. 

"Because I've based my entire getting over you thing on the theory that you don't actually have feelings. And if you're sorry, that kind of bursts the theory." 

Silence. 

"I've missed you, you know," Hiroshi said quietly, wondering as soon as he said it if he'd overstepped the line. Kasumi looked more annoyed than touched at his words. 

"You really screwed me over, you know that don't you? Do you know how lucky I was that my friends forgave me for lashing them like that? Do you know lucky I was that my family forgave me?" 

Hiroshi frowned, slightly put out by her indignation. 

"I didn't exactly do myself any favours, either, you know. I lost nearly all my friends, I alienated my family, I screwed up my whole career. I was supposed to be a goddamn master, Kasumi, one of the best ... and now I work in a record store just so I can make rent every month." 

Hiroshi hadn't said any of that aloud before, not even to Taura, and he was surprised at his own bitterness. 

Kasumi concentrated a little too hard at pulling at a loose thread on her sleeve. 

"You should start training again. You really do have talent. You've wasted a lot of time, but its never too late." 

He thought over her words carefully, took them to heart. 

"Okay, so it's not too late for me ... but is it too late for us?"

Kasumi remained silent for a long time, staring vaguely at a point above his head. 

"Yeah," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "I think it is." She lowered her eyes, looked at him through her lashes. "That's not to say that I don't miss you because I do. And I'm not saying I wasn't in love with you, because I was. Maybe I still am a little." 

"So why is it too late?" he pressed. 

Kasumi sighed. 

"Because it is. Because I have another life with another guy who treats me right, Hiroshi. He treats me so well, like I'm a princess ... he loves me so much, Hiroshi ... "

Her words trailed off, turned into tears. 

"Forget that," Hiroshi said quietly as she wiped tears away with her sleeve. "Forget Shigeru, forget your friends, forget your family. Throw it behind you, Kasumi and think about us." 

She laughed harshly through her tears at his idealism. 

"And then what, huh? What if it doesn't work out? What if were not meant to be? What do I do then? Run back to my friends, apologise for lashing them again? Run back to Shigeru, beg him to take me back?" 

"It could work out."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Hiroshi!" she said bitterly, standing up and moving away slightly, pushing an anxious hand through her straightened hair. "Life isn't a bad teen movie. Things don't always end up happily ever after. I know that if I take this risk, I'm going to end up screwing myself and everyone I care about over yet again. And I'm not going to do that." 

Hiroshi stood too, moved around the table to close the space between him and Kasumi. 

"So what then?" he asked, holding her gaze. "Is that it?" 

"That's it," Kasumi confirmed. "The end." 

Of all the things Hiroshi didn't want to hear at that moment, 'the end' was the very first on the list. 

"Goddammit, Kasumi, I still love you." 

It was less than poetic, but it was raw and honest. Kasumi smiled sadly, touched his cheek lightly. 

"Maybe you should have said that two years ago. Maybe things would have been different." 

Hiroshi matched her sad smile, knowing she was right. 

"I came here tonight not knowing what was going to happen or what I wanted," Kasumi confessed. "It could have gone either way. But I've made a choice. And I know now that it was never going to happen for us." 

She smiled at him fondly, wistfully.

"I'm always going to love you. But sometimes ... sometimes that isn't enough." 

She kissed him on the cheek, smiled sadly one last time, then left. And Hiroshi knew that, for the second time in his life, he'd let Kasumi get away from him. 

Maybe she was right. It was never going to happen for them.

Hiroshi didn't often buy _The Tribune_. He always said that if he was going to go to the trouble to read a newspaper, he wasn't going to read one that was so blatantly right-wing. But on September 15th, just over a year since he'd last seen Kasumi, he walked down to the newsagent on the corner and purchased a copy. 

He didn't read the headlines, didn't check out the weather forecast. He turned the paper over. He skipped past the sports section, past the TV section, then stopped. There it was. The weekend social pages. 

They were on the front, though that was to be expected. She was resplendent in a stunning Vera Wang gown. He was coiffed and polished, dressed in a sleek Armani suit and smiling broadly. She was smiling, too, the picture-perfect smile of a picture-perfect bride. 

Hiroshi was glad. Glad she looked so happy, glad that Shigeru was happy, glad that it had worked out so well for both of them. 

But if he looked at Kasumi's wide aqua eyes, looked past the joy, he could see something else, something that had been in her eyes for over three years. Something that he saw in his own eyes every day. 

Sadness. A sadness that he had bestowed upon her. 

And it was with equal parts melancholy and regret for missed opportunities that Hiroshi acknowledged that Kasumi's sadness was the only part of her that would ever belong to him. 

**END**

End notes: I think this is the first fic I've written that doesn't have a happy ending. I think I need to lie down.


End file.
